Never Cry, Not Even In The End
by Perfect Devils
Summary: (Crossover- Buffy/Devil May Cry) Spike is sought out by Dante, a half demon, who wants his help stopping someone who is bent on destroying the world. (**Slash**)


Disclaimer: We don't own 'em, they belong to their respective creators…We just put them together and wrote a story. Fae Grimiore and the plot belongs to us-- we made them up.

Warning: There _will_ be slash. Get over it. 

Never Cry, Not Even In The End  
                                                              
  
Turning around, Spike looked at the dismal graveyard with a slight longing to be among the rotting corpses in the damp soil. His life among the living had lost all meaning, it was cold and empty, with the loss of Buffy and the loss of all those he thought were his friends-- They had no reason to keep him around. Spike felt his eyes well up with tears and blinked them back furiously as his thoughts drifted to his slayer. His still heart lurched, he longed for her scent, for her touch. To see her beautiful golden hair and pouty lips-- he'd see all his blood spilt to the last drop just to bring her back to this world which she belonged more than he. Love bites, he thought musing himself for a mere second. Great, now he was resorting to bad vampire jokes, how much worse could he get? He sighed and lifted his foot to lean on the foot steps in front of him and he fished a cigarette out of his faded denim pocket. Taking two long drags on it, he forced a wicked smile on his face and walked towards the heart of Sunnydale since he could grant no welcome with the dead.

The Bronze was buzzing with the usual excitement it held on a normal Saturday night. Spike wondered briefly is even half of these humans knew how many times he had a hand in saving the world, how many times they had been saved from the evils they never dreamed of. Icy blue spheres scanned the crowd searchingly, he quirked an eyebrow when his eyes landed on a figure sitting at the bar in a crimson trench coat with white hair. The man's gloved hands toyed with a small empty shot glass as he stared off thoughtfully into nowhere. Spike could tell there was something different about this man, something interesting but he was in no mood to find out for himself, he wasn't in the mood for much of anything anymore. He moved to his shadowed spot near the stairs and leaned against the wall in an almost exasperatedly and closed his eyes with a sigh. When he reopened them, the white-haired man from the bar was standing right in front of him.

"Bloody hell!" cried Spike, shocked that anyone could move so quietly, anyone mortal that is. Spike held his eyes wide slightly as measured up the man in front of him. Underneath his leather trench coat, the man was wearing a simple black shirt and black pants. His black leather boots nearly blended in with his pants and his matching black gloves covered his no-doubt strong and slender fingers. Spike eyes fell upon the amulet around the man's neck, the scarlet stone was mesmerizing, it glistened and reminded Spike of the liquid fire elixir that kept him alive over the years, feeling his knees grow weak and unsteady underneath him he removed his gaze. He noticed that around the man's hips were two holsters each carrying a gun-- one white and one black. Hmm, hunter I suppose, I wonder if he'd do the pleasure of getting rid of William the Bloody.

"I've been waiting for you Spike."

"Have you?" asked Spike, raising a brow, "Why's that?"

The man glanced sideways, as if he was having trouble finding the right words, "I need your help."

"Listen mate, you may be good-looking but I don't sleep with just anybody," Spike said tilting his head slightly to the side, a smile tugging the side of his lips.

The man laughed loudly and then smirked, "That's not what I meant but thanks for the compliment. I'm Dante."

Spike looked beyond the man named Dante, still searching in blind hope of a familiar face. It was almost humiliating how much he had become accustomed to the ritual of going to the old watcher's house and letting the slayer and the Scooby gang work out all the dilemmas. His eyes locked on a figure for a moment. Dawn. Wearing a slutty outfit that practically screamed Buffy with a trail of admirers close behind her. Just like her sister, he thought looking back to Dante. It's just, too weird, him just showing up like this, needing my help. Bloody hell, he probably thinks that the do-gooders rubbed off on me a bit--well, in one way at least.

"Pet, I don't know who you are but bloody hell it's a widely known fact that I'm not good for much." Except for a roll in the sack, Spike thought, once again with old humor.

"There aren't many vampires out there who would fight for good," came Dante's voice, soft as a whispering wind chilling Spike to the core. This reminded him of his lost love, how she turned to him that night, telling him how she believed in him because he faced the monster inside of him, and fought back. Spike felt a surge of warmth towards Dante.

"Just hear me out and then decide if you want to help or not," said Dante.

"Alright," said Spike slowly, "Fine, why do you want my help?"

"We can't talk here…The walls have ears," he said with a grin, "In the literal sense."      

Spike followed the man through the sea of bodies and after a few moments of guilty temptation, they were outside in the blessed cool night air. They walked to the mouth of the alleyway and paused for a second.

"So mate, where are we off to?" Dante smiled wickedly at this and raised a hand, beckoning Spike to follow him in a confused haze. Ten minutes passed of following the white haired man, who Spike noted had the grace of a hunting cat, through a series of deserted alleys and twisting streets. Their traveling stopped when they stopped in front of the doors of an old run down looking bar.         

Dante thrust open the doors that creaked almost evilly to Spike's ears-- so far, he liked what he saw. Upon entering the shabby and dim bar, Spike's eyes fell upon various demon heads with swords and other weapons through them mounted upon the walls as trophies. Among the few worn and beaten chairs, there was a solitary phone and an old picture of a blonde haired woman in a wooden frame on a desk in the far end of the old bar.

"Welcome," Dante said solemnly, "to Devil May Cry, my office." Spike nodded and sat down in a shabby chair at the desk. This place reminded Spike of his 'home,' this place, much like the crypt, was dark and slightly comforting to him given his moods of late. Watching Dante elegantly lower himself into the chair across from him, Spike decided that even if this man didn't end up needing his help, he wanted to get to know him after all. Moments of silence ensued and consisted of the two 'men' staring at each other. Spike started to laugh softly to himself, feeling eerie; he wasn't used to having people stare at him from this close a distance. Not since... no, he needed to stop thinking of her so much. That's the past, that's all it'll ever be-- the past.

"S'kay mate, I'm not completely daft." Spike looked up at the dark ceiling. "Let's get with the talking. You want the Big Bad's help? Tell me what the job is because I got a certain stake waiting with my name on it."

Dante looked at his hands as they fiddled with a silver coin and leaned forward. "How much do you know about Norse Mythology?" Dante's eyes met Spike's imploringly and Spike noticed that they were an incredible sea green.

"Nothing." Dante sighed and made a steeple with his hands then pressed them softly to his mouth.

"I'll put it simply then, basically, there's a giant wolf called Fenris, who if let loose will bring about the next apocalypse. They call the day Ragnarok, the Day of the Wolf."

"Joy," Spike grumbled as Dante paused for him to take in this brief and important information.

"And, usually in these circumstances, there's a, in my opinion, very foolish, and rich human behind it. Someone who wants just a bit more power or revenge. She's got some powerful people working for her; I've heard a reliable rumor of a powerful Wiccan who has recently joined leagues with her."

Spike bowed his head slightly. Why did trouble like him so? Couldn't they just find that new kid slayer? Sighing, Spike rubbed his temples. "And just who is this person?"

"The Wicca or the human?"

"Either or both," he grunted in frustration. Dante, Spike hadn't noticed, picked up a book and was leafing through it.

"The Wiccan I haven't rightly come across her name yet but she's been called a few names like Rose or the Wicked Bitch of the West Coast-- et cetera. And the human is called Fae Grimoire."

Spike chuckled at the Wiccan's nicknames but had become oddly serious at the mention of Fae Grimoire. Why did that name sound familiar? He couldn't remember, it was on the edge of his thoughts but he couldn't quite grasp it.

"Do you mind if I ask a few questions mate?" Spike's words laced with his sexy British accent. Dante leaned back in his chair, putting the book face down on the desk and nodded.

"I know you're not human," Spike said, "Even a weak vampire would be able to tell. So who are you?"

Dante smiled sadly and ran his hand through his gorgeous white hair. "Do you know who Sparda was?"

"The Dark Knight? Of course, who doesn't? He was the demon that won the Great War for the side of light. Demons and Vampires hated him and Slayers loved him."

 "He was my father," said Dante, smiling slightly at the shock on Spike's face, "I'm half-demon."

"Well, that explains something," said Spike, "Why do you want my help? You could always just go find the Slayer. So why me?"

"The Slayer isn't ready for something like this," said Dante, "Frankly, I don't think she would help me anyway, good or not I'm still half-demon. Also, Matier, who I guess you could call a friend of mine, said to find you. She said you would be able to help."

Spike took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat. He had decided that he wanted to help the pale haired hunter if not to give him something to do and take his mind off his long, lost Slayer than at least to get to know the man better. How often did you run into half demons? Not to mention handsome half-demons that fought for the side of good. He had nothing to lose besides his life which, of late, had little to no importance. If he was going to go out, he was going to do it fighting for something Buffy believed in, for something he believed in…

"Alright, I'll help you," said Spike, breaking the silence.

Dante smiled, "Great. I'll be glad to have you." He stood up then and walked over and behind the bar. From off the table he picked up a large broadsword, it's hilt was black and decorated with two demons wings, and strapped it to his back.

"Hey, mate, you have any weapons I could use?" asked Spike, "Don't really have any of my own."

Dante smirked, and leaned over, disappearing behind the bar again. He stood back up and held out twin daggers to Spike. Spike walked over and took them, he had to admit they were beautiful—the hilts were an ebony color, one of the hilts was decorated with the image of a woman holding the sun in one hand and cupped water in the other. Upon her head rested a wreath of flowers and at her feet rested a beautiful cat while the other depicted another woman holding instead, the moon in one hand and a scythe in the other. While on her head rested a crown of bones and at her feet, a cat as dark as a cloudy night sat. 

"Wait just a sec, you get that big-ass sword and two guns and all I get are these?" asked Spike, looking over at Dante.

"If you'd prefer something else than that's fine with me but I thought they'd be perfect for you. Daggers take grace and speed, something that you have," replied Dante.

"…They're fine," said Spike after a moment. 

"_He just complimented me,"_ thought Spike, _"I think I may just blush."_

"Lets rock and roll," said Dante with a wolfish grin.


End file.
